Page 63 of Mercy & Malice

Mom glances over my shoulder in the direction of Micah. “We still need to talk about everything.”

“I know. And I’m sorry you were scared. But I really don’t want to talk about any of it. I told the police everything I could, and they’re going to handle it.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Brooke. Why did they take you? What did they want?”

I definitely can’t give her any logic to make it make sense. Nothing could ever rationalize it. “I don’t know.”

“No one has seen your father. Officer Davenport said he decided to get away for a while, but you know your father doesn’t take time off work for any reason, especially vacation. His partner must be lying.” She pauses for a few seconds before she asks, “Did he do this? You don’t have to protect him. If he did, tell me. I’ll make sure he never comes near you again.”

She has the same initial suspicion that I did. But we couldn’t have been more wrong. “You’re right. Davenport is lying.” I debate how much information to give her, and almost immediately decide she deserves to know that she doesn’t have to fear him anymore at the very least. “I’ll tell you the truth if you swear not to repeat it to anyone, ever.”

Her mouth drops open as she goes to say something but closes it as she nods quickly.

“Dad is dead. They brought him there and he was killed.” I leave out the part of Micah doing it just in case my mom doesn’t keep the information to herself.

“What?” Her stunned eyes flick back and forth between mine, searching and praying for an understanding I’ll never be able to offer her. “Are you sure? Why would they do that? Are you sure?”

“Yes, he’s gone. But you can’t say anything. Just play along with whatever you’re being told by Davenport. It’s important that you leave Micah and me out of it because I’m worried we could be blamed for what happened.”

She rubs her hands up my arms. “That had to be traumatizing to witness. Are you all right? What can I do?”

That wasn’t even a blip on the radar out of everything that occurred, but I keep that to myself. “I’m just grateful that he won’t be able to hurt us anymore. I know that’s bad. But he was never going to stop.”

“I agree,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.” She pulls me back into her embrace. I don’t even ask what she’s sorry for because I know the feeling. It’s a blanket apology for everything.

“I’ll stop by and grab some clothes later.”

“Okay. At least you’ll still be close.” She tucks my hair behind my ear as she watches me. “I still want to talk about the extra credit assignment in Mr. LeBlanc’s class though.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just forget everything that happened before today.” Please God, grant me that prayer.

Maybe the betrayal does sting a little. But at the end of the day, it truly doesn’t matter. Nothing does except moving forward.

33

MICAH

I hear the laughter coming from the kitchen as I sit on the patio with my brother beside me. It all feels surreal. Her laughing and him relaxed around me.

When Brooke and Ivy let out another fit of laughter, Luca smiles, “At least she’s good.”

“It’s a show. She’s struggling.” I know she is. After we left her grandparents’ place, her entire demeanor shifted. And while I do think the visit lifted her spirits, I also know she puts on a hell of a show to cover her father’s brutality. “Anything new?”

“No, but I followed up on what Brooke said about Davenport. Apparently, Brent put in a leave of absence for ‘personal reasons’ and guess who delivered it to HR.”

“His good buddy and lying partner, Davenport,” I state. “He’s the third bastard. He has to be.”

“Maybe, maybe not. He could just be covering for his psychotic best friend. They’ve been on the force together for years, and he always went along with his antics while they were on the job.”

Maybe, maybe not isn’t good enough. When I look over at Luca, he knows I won’t let it go until we find out for certain. He tells me, “We’ll question him. I’ll arrange it.”

Luca was true to his word. It’s not that I ever doubted him. I just couldn’t get to this moment fast enough. And now that I’m standing in front of Davenport, my impatience has turned to pure rage. He’s still unconscious; the restraints binding him to the chair is the only reason he’s upright. The Keepers’ lair isn’t my favorite, but it does provide a well-hidden and soundproof spot. So when he wakes, no one will hear his screams.

He finally starts coming to with muffled groans. The moment he begins squirming, I take the covering off his head. Luca insisted on keeping the location and our identities under wraps. But neither were necessary. This motherfucker won’t be able to talk to anyone. Because he won’t be alive. The son of a bitch will pay with his life.

Davenport searches around the room, his eyes wide as he asks, “What’s going on? Where am I?” He yanks at his bindings. But his wrists are strapped to the arms of the chair; his ankles each secured to a chair leg, allowing him very limited movement.

After a few moments of silently and motionlessly observing him, I drop down in the chair opposite and recline back with the knife in my hand on full display, enjoying the panic that is steadily growing in him before I speak. “You have one chance to tell me what I want to know.”